Tag Archives: cum on my glasses

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The turning of the New Year invites reflection; and the thought occurs that time’s passage has, for me, been punctuated not with the ticking of clocks or turning of calendar pages but, rather, with all the different lovers I’ve known. “Lovers” might be too grand a word, for many of these men I’ve known, when I was escorting, for only an hour or so. And some I’ve come to know now only virtually, via the Internet.

Whatever I call them, they are someone else’s son, brother, father, boyfriend, husband even. It’s said that, no matter how intimate, you can never really, really know someone.

So I may not be privy to the day-to-day life of the man sitting across from you at the dinner table right now, but I know his secrets, things you’ll never know.

Take Bukkake Bob, for instance. That’s what I called him, and not just behind his back. I made him laugh (not just cum).

All he wanted to do was splash his hot, gooey ejaculate all over my face and titties. I didn’t have to do anything — not even suck — just kneel there, with my face uplifted and smiling expectantly. Sometimes I would wag my tongue (this was long before Miley Cyrus’s iconic move) to gesture how much I wanted it, craved it — to feel and taste the splash of his cum.

Once a week, like clockwork, we would meet to perform this ritual, sometimes in my apartment, sometimes in a motel room, sometimes in his huge SUV.

Then one evening, when I had on a lot of makeup (for I was to go on a fancy dinner date with another guy an hour later), I tilted my head ever so slightly just as Bob shot his wad. So most of what he shot ended up on the floor.

When men cum on my face, it makes a horrible mess of my make-up. So in order to still look pretty while sucking still more cock, I have to interrupt everything, ruining the romance, in order to run into the bathroom and take valuable time rebuilding my foundation! By the time I return, the cock is often no longer hard. What can I do?

Joy’s Gems (of Wisdom):
If cum on your face is creating a mud-like mess, obviously you’re using a lot of foundation! Which, of course, is necessary if you didn’t start ingesting girlie hormones until after puberty and your electrolysis or laser treatments are still incomplete. (I wonder if the guys giving you facials appreciate how expensive and pain-in-the-ass these treatments are, to eliminate one’s beard to make one’s face more fuckable!)

Anyway, the key variable is not how much foundation you use — but how you apply it. No matter how much residue roughness you need to hide, you just don’t want to slap and cake liquid foundation all over your face. Remember your makeup basics: Less is more!

Start with a very light base. Don’t smear it all over your face. Rather, apply from the tips of your fingers tapping gently until your face is covered. Then when dry, use a big fluffy brush to dust powder on that first layer of foundation.

Then keep layering and layering and layering: thin coats of foundation followed by dustings of powder. It takes time and patience; but the result is so polished, your feminine face will look like a runaway model’s.

And it will retain that polished look even with gobs of cum all over your face. The trick is not to smear the cum — but to let it dry and cake over your makeup. To prevent huge globs of cum from trickling down your face before they dry, simply dab them with a tissue to remove the excess. Dab! Don’t rub, wipe, and smear!

Then, to go out in public with subtle spots of dried cum dotting my face — I find incredibly sexy! And all the other girls become so, so jealous. They all want to be shemales!

The irony that silly me girlishly forgot to actually mention in the last post is this: My initial fear and trembling soon (inevitably?) turned into pleasure and purpose. Isn’t that always the way with the most exquisite of acquired tastes?

Especially a taste for cum.

You have to learn to like it, and I had so many great teachers. So many patient guys who took the time to teach me how to be their “pretty, little cumslut.”

But even more important were the real GG’s, like the nurses at the clinic testing me for HIV, who didn’t condemn me or make me feel kinky or embarrassed. Getting so-called “facials” was perfectly normal, they seemed to be saying in their nodding, knowing kind of way. Getting covered with a face-full of cum can cum with the territory of being a girl. (Were there too many cum’s, too much cum!, in that last sentence?)

GG’s, for those not in the know, are genetic girls, and they know everything that I want to know. More than mere mentors, they can do no wrong and are my ultimate role models, the goddesses whose secrets they alone can share.

If our eyes are windows into our soul, what do they say about us when they’re clouded in cum? Such was my freak-out when that first happened to me (cum-in-the-eyeball, see previous post) that I went to the nearby free clinic to be tested for HIV…again…and again. Each time I would have to tell the clinic workers, who were used to working with sex workers, why I wanted to be tested. Didn’t I insist that all my so-called boyfriends wear condoms? Of course, I replied, slightly insulted (I wasn’t stupid!).

So I would have to repeat my embarrassing tale of how I got a big wad of cum in my right eye, initially blurring my vision, stinging a bit, and making me worry like hell. Since the eyeball is covered in a moist membrane (right? I couldn’t remember my high school biology specifics), wouldn’t that transmit the deadly virus just like other delicate avenues into the body?

An anus of an eye? A vagina of the visual cortex? When worried sick, think up outrageous metaphors!

“You’re funny,” the nurse said. “I always like working with girls like you. You all have such a wonderful, outlandish sense of humor.”

“You’re not making me feel better,” I said.

“Well, sweetie, I really don’t think you have to worry. I’ve never heard of HIV being contracted this way. We’ll have the test results back in a week.”